Fealty or Folly?
by Darth Slaverus
Summary: Post FE8, two chapters. As the Knights of Renais struggle to regain their former glory, Seth decides to lecture a platoon of new recruits on the ideals of knighthood. But what does it truly mean to be a knight? Spoilers for FE8 and various support conversations.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or any of the characters within. They're Nintendo's property._

_This fic was created as a birthday present to my good friend Blonde Panther, but is open for anyone to read. Although I've had some small experience writing in other areas, this is the first time I've ever written fan fiction, so hopefully I don't disappoint. Reviews and comments are appreciated. Be as brutally honest as you like, criticism can only help me improve, after all. This will be the first of two chapters._

As the ring of steel upon steel echoed throughout the courtyard of Castle Renais, Kyle realized just how mistaken he'd been. Rather naively, the green-haired knight had assumed that the conclusion of the War of the Stones meant that he and his fellow soldiers would be given a reprieve from the cacophonous din of battle. But the restoration of his beloved nation was no small project, and with Renais' military in shambles due to losses incurred during the fighting, the newly-crowned King Ephraim had initiated a massive recruiting drive to replenish their ranks.

All across the country, potential recruits were being swept up and taken to the capital to undergo training. These candidates came from all walks of life: Men and women, the young and the elderly, commoners and nobles. Some were motivated by patriotism, others chased dreams of glory, and others still had more personal reasons to join the Knighthood. The sheer destruction wrought by the war had left Renais vulnerable to a surge of bandit activity, a problem that had yet to subside even with the return of peace. Unable to let such depravity go unanswered, the royal family had decreed that Renais would need as many able-bodied men and women as possible to stem the tide of outlawry, a plea that had resonated in the hearts of many of its citizens.

As one of the most senior knights in all Renais, Kyle had been entrusted with the duty of commanding a platoon of fresh recruits, who had just arrived at the castle mere days ago. This order had come from none other than General Seth, the legendary leader of the Knights of Renais, whose exploits had made him a household name. Honoured to have been given so vital a responsibility, Kyle had wasted no time in drilling his charges relentlessly the moment they had come under his care. A no-nonsense knight by nature, he knew firsthand that being a member of the Knights of Renais was no picnic, and was determined not to cut them any slack.

Currently, Kyle patrolled the courtyard dueling rings, occasionally intervening in the various sparring matches that raged around him to offer advice. Having divided the trainees of his platoon into pairs, he had made them square off against each other, figuring the exercise would not only refine their technique, but also strengthen the bonds of camaraderie between them. The importance of having a trusted partner and rival had not been lost on him, as Kyle himself had trained alongside such a man. He keenly remembered the tournament he had lost in his youth, bested by his best friend, and how the defeat had caused him to renew his dedication to the arts of war… Speaking of which, perhaps holding a mock tourney among his platoon would be a sound idea…

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Kyle spotted a disaster brewing. One of the recruits, a young, lanky man with curly red hair, had nearly stumbled over himself while lunging with a practice lance, his blow veering pathetically off-target. Worse, his opponent, a heavyset man with a thick beard, let the error go unchallenged, refusing to counterattack. Sighing, Kyle stepped forward and laid his hand upon the younger man's shoulder.

"No, no. Harold, I know you're eager to prove your worth. But swiftness means nothing without precision. Tighten your stance, like so-" Kyle snatched the lance from him and demonstrated the proper pose, "-and strike with confidence!" He jabbed at the older recruit as he explained, poking him straight in the chest before returning the blunted lance to Harold. "And you, Raul! If Harold does it again, hit him! He needs to learn that clumsiness on the battlefield can result in serious injury or death. You'll be no good to us in a shallow grave. Understand?"

"Yessir."

"Aye, Captain."

"Good." Kyle nodded, and left them to their devices. Resuming his patrol, the stern-faced knight continued to search for flaws in the fighting styles of his men. Instead, he bore witness to a most unusual sight: In one of the ongoing duels before him, a blonde woman was struggling against a recruit whose head was hidden underneath a closed helm. To his amazement, the helmed man gracefully parried each of the woman's strikes, seemingly not bothering to fight back, until he abruptly disarmed her with a single flick of his risk. Stunned that someone among these greenhorns could fight with the kind of skill that one only found in veterans, Kyle was about to march over there and discover the identity of this prodigy, but was interrupted as he heard his name being called in the distance.

Whirling to face the source of the noise, Kyle saw a youthful man in armour dashing toward him. At first, he thought it was one of his men, a straggler who'd come late to practice, and prepared himself to deliver a tongue-lashing of such grave proportions that even the Demon King himself would shudder upon hearing it. However, as the young knight drew closer, Kyle recognized him as Franz, a knight who had won his spurs in the War of the Stones, and the younger brother of Kyle's former partner. Sheepishly regretting his hastiness in assuming the worst, he jogged forward to meet the lad.

"Franz? What is it?" Kyle called out as he approached, curious as to what errand had brought him here.

"Captain Kyle! I come bearing a message from General Seth…" The young man replied, saluting. Although he had been running in full plate armour, Franz didn't seem to be winded in the slightest, a testament to his quality as a knight despite his tender age.

"The General? Well, let's hear it." Kyle was well-aware that Franz often worked closely with the General, acting as a courier and aide. Clearly, Seth was grooming the boy for a prestigious position. If he was sending Franz to deliver this message, it must have been a matter of great import.

"Sir! The General requests that you cease all training activities and assemble your men. He wishes to speak to your platoon personally, and will be here shortly. He didn't divulge any further details to me, sir."

Kyle furrowed his brow, unsure of how to interpret this news. Seth was going to give a speech to his platoon… Was it a surprise inspection? He wasn't being relieved of his post, was he? Before he could respond, a third, unexpected voice piped up.

"Oho, the General's going to pay Captain Kyle a visit, is he? Uh oh! You haven't been drinking on the job again, have you?"

Cheeks flushing with anger, Kyle rounded on the mocking voice, only to discover the victorious helmed knight from earlier, brazenly eavesdropping on their conversation. Seconds away from scolding this man for his impertinence, Kyle's ire was replaced with a speechless horror as the enigmatic figure removed his helmet to reveal an all-too-familiar face.

"Forde?!" Kyle exclaimed after an uncomfortable silence, decidedly and unpleasantly nonplussed that his archrival had dared to intrude upon his training.

Sheathing his sword with a flourish, Forde took a bow. "The one and only! It's nice to see you too, Kyle. Oh, and you as well, Little Brother." He replied with a roguish grin.

Clenching his fists, Kyle fought to avoid strangling his partner right then and there. Forde's utter disregard for propriety and protocol had been infuriating at the best of times during his tenure as a knight, but now, after retiring from the knights when they needed him the most, he thought to interfere with their training regimen? Kyle had never quite forgiven his partner for resigning, and wouldn't let him run amok around HIS training ground. "I thought you were painting pictures these days, Forde. You're a civilian. Who gave you leave to be here?" He hissed, scowling.

In contrast to Kyle's exasperated annoyance, Forde appeared perfectly calm, shrugging nonchalantly. "I do still paint, Kyle. I was commissioned as a court artist, remember? But it gets boring being cooped up in the castle all day. Sometimes, I just want to get out there and see some action, just like the good old days. So, I thought I'd pop on down and see my old friend Kyle, but I didn't expect such a cold reception! Oh, well. At least the ladies in your platoon are a little more welcoming."

The green-haired knight planted his face squarely in his palm as he realized why the incognito Forde had chosen one of the female recruits as his opponent. "Forde, this is not a playground, nor is it a place for you to pursue your foolish dalliances. My platoon has nothing to learn from you, so you do not belong here. Away with you!"

"Who says they can't learn from the best? C'mon, Kyle. You owe me." Forde pointed to the banners that had been hung around the training area to indicate that it was currently in use by Kyle's platoon. Each banner depicted a shining silver knight astride a mighty warhorse, charging forth under a blazing sun. Although Forde had not designed those banners specifically, they were based upon a famous portrait of Seth that he had been commissioned to paint by Queen Eirika herself. Yet there was one key difference between the banner and the portrait: In the original work, the knight wielded what was widely regarded as Seth's signature weapon: A gleaming silver lance. But upon the banners, the knight clasped a crimson lance in one hand and a dark green shield in the other, a subtle change that was no doubt a reference to Forde and Kyle's former partnership. Rumour had it that Forde himself had asked Seth to make it Kyle's regimental banner, a sentimental gesture that the green-haired knight could not deny.

A sudden, impatient cough snapped both men out of their argument. Franz, who had previously remained neutral in the dispute, had evidently grown tired of watching his sibling and Kyle bicker, instead of following the General's orders.

Taking the hint, Kyle threw his arms up, having neither the patience or energy to further squabble with Forde. "Fine, you can stay. I won't waste anymore breath on an idiot like you. But you had better be on your best behaviour." Ignoring Forde's celebratory fist pumps, Kyle moved to address his men, signaling them to fall in. Murmurs and whispers circulated throughout the ranks as the men gathered at the edge of the dueling rings, speculating as to what had disrupted the daily routine.

Wincing as Forde sauntered over to tell them, Kyle stood next to Franz at the head of the group, praying he didn't embarrass himself too much in front of the Silver Knight.

...

...

...

Home. Castle Renais had always felt like a second home to Seth. It was first and foremost the property of the royal family, of course, but he had spent much of his life here, learning the sword and being schooled in chivalry. That feeling had only grown stronger when the late King Fado had entered his life and become an irreplaceable friend. The benevolent sovereign had always rewarded Seth for his loyalty, and in return, Seth had sworn to defend him, his progeny, and Renais. The bitter memory of the day the castle had been taken weighed heavily on his mind. The only good to come out of that black day was that he'd kept Queen Eirika safe.

Once the tides of war had turned and the royal twins had triumphantly reclaimed the castle, Seth had been overjoyed to see that it had mostly remained untouched. True, the treasury had been looted to supplement the coffers of the invading Grado armies, but its imposing stone walls still stood, an everlasting remnant of Renais' enduring legacy. He felt that as long as Castle Renais existed, the land he had pledged to serve with all his heart could never truly die.

However, not everything was the same.

Slowly, deliberately, Seth turned his eyes toward the portrait of Queen Eirika that now hung in the castle's entry hall. It was a new addition to the décor, meticulously painted by Forde in the aftermath of their final victory, but Seth wasn't so sure if it was a _welcome_ addition or not. It wasn't that it was of poor quality- oh no, it was hauntingly beautiful, almost as much as the Queen was in person. How Forde had captured her smile so perfectly, he would never know. It was a masterpiece, in every sense. And that was exactly what bothered him. What it invoked within him was improper and entirely unbefitting of a knight of his station.

Unconsciously, he reached out for the portrait, as if to caress the smiling Queen's cheek. His fingers hovered mere inches from the surface of the painting before a twinge of pain in his shoulder alerted him to what he was doing, and he quickly stopped himself. He'd caressed her like that, once… But never again. For just as he would tarnish the portrait were he to touch it so, to involve himself further with the new Queen would tarnish both her reputation and her purity. Sobering in the face of reality, Seth spun on his heel and walked away, leaving the portrait behind.

He had an appointment to keep. Best not to keep Kyle and his men waiting. Duty was the best anesthetic, after all.


End file.
